Inside Looking Out, Part III

"Red Clay Next Door"
12 x 9, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2020

The top photo shows the first painting in my recent "Inside Looking Out" series. I painted this one looking out the window at my surroundings, and something about it sparked a desire to explore the surroundings further. That's the way it tends to happen--I seldom start out with the express intention of producing a series of paintings. Instead, one painting triggers a desire that leads to more paintings in the same vein, and voila!, there is a series.

View out the Window

As for this particular series, all have been painted during the pandemic restrictions, looking out my studio window. I find that simply paying attention to the things around you is a way to stay centered and grounded, and to relish the joys of the everyday. Furthermore, it is one of the most important skills of a perceptual painter. 

Julia Cameron has written about this concept in her book The Artist's Way. She writes:

The quality of life is in proportion,

always,

to the capacity for delight.

The capacity for delight is the gift of

paying attention.

Moreover, Cameron notes that "The reward for paying attention is always healing."  

"Bungalows"
10 x 10, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2020

Yes, paying attention is a gift, but it is also a practice that can be cultivated. Quiet times are fertile grounds for cultivation of this gift.  I'll be working hard on paying attention these days. It's a useful practice to keep in mind, not just during the time of the pandemic, but always!

Inside Looking Out, Part II

Social distancing and quasi-quarantine measures continue and escalate. Virtually every operation in my studio building has come to a screeching halt, which means that I am usually the only one there--certainly the only person on the 2nd floor. While it seems entirely too quiet, it does feel relatively safe in terms of avoiding contact with others.  And so I continue to go in, and to gaze out the windows, and to paint what I see.

Looking, really looking, at these views is revelatory. Sometimes you have to do a lot of looking before you SEE. And SEEING is the most important skill of a perceptual painter. It is a lifetime's work.  That may all sound like voodoo, but it's not. (For the curious, I have written more about what it means to "see" here).

I'm illustrating this post with a painting of an apartment building across the street from my studio. I have looked at it thousands of times, and I love the way the stark whiteness of it reflects nice light into my space. But until I started to paint it, I had not really SEEN it.

"White Apartment Building"
8 x 12, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2020

When I finally tuned into it and received the visual information it was providing, I realized that the facades of the different wings reflect light differently, and as a result appear different shades of white. I realized that, from my altitude, the flat roof presents an interesting oblique shape. The most startling realization was that the facade with the central door is curved. Yes, curved--it is concave! How could I have failed to see that before?? It was not until the conclusion of the painting session, when I had watched the shadow shapes change with the movement of the sun, that I figured out why they were changing the way they were--that that the changes were due to the curve of the wall.

And so, I will never look at that building the same. I treasure this little painting for the way it helped teach me to SEE!

Inside Looking Out, Part I

Unfortunately, the words "social distancing" and "quarantine" have become part of our everyday vocabulary over the past week or two. But fortunately, I have still been able to go to my studio every day. For better or worse, my studio location allows me to work without interacting with other people. In fact, the current crisis contains something of a silver lining: with meetings and appointments cancelled, there are extra quiet hours for reflection and for listening to one's own inner voice. 

"Two Gables"
10 x 10, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2020

As I reflect, I have been looking out the windows of my second floor studio. In these quiet days, my strongest impulse has been to paint what I see out the window. I keep thinking of what the painter Frank Hobbs has said: "Your life's work lies in the courtyard just outside your house."  

The top two photos show what can happen when you take the time to study a view that you typically just glance at every day in passing. There's a lot of chaotic information in that view, but the window panes just happened to hand me an interesting composition.  Quick, quick, before the angle of the sun changed too much (I didn't want to lose those great shadows under the eaves!), I grabbed my plein air easel and set up next to the window. 

The last photo shows how the painting started, with my "searching" lines, as I started to put the composition together. Lots of angles. In the end, I decided to leave some of these initial marks visible. I think they add to the energy of the painting. Let me know what you think! And stay tuned for more views out the studio windows...

Behind the Scenes

"South End Drive Through"
12 x 12, Oil on Linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2019
(Private Collection)

I've been taking advantage of the warmer spring temperatures over the past several weeks, and have been painting outdoors. My studio is located in Charlotte's historic South End, so I can just walk out my door carrying my portable easel like a backpack, and I don't have to go far to find lots of interesting things to paint.

"Miller Services, Midday"
12 x 18, Oil on Panel
(c) Lesley Powell 2019

Walking along the light rail line, I usually see the backs of buildings. It's become a favorite motif for me. I know what time of day the facades are in sun, and what time they are in shadow. I can arrange my schedule to get the best view for the painting I have in mind. It feels like these latest works

Hot TownI!

"Uptown Silhouettes"
8 x 8, oil on linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2018
(SOLD)

I don't know about your locale, but mine has been suffering unbearable heat and humidity over the past few weeks. The sixties song "Hot Town, Summer in the City" (remember the Lovin' Spoonful?!) keeps running through my head! Along those lines, I just delivered a new series of paintings to Shain Gallery in Charlotte--urban landscapes, featuring the skyline of Charlotte. 

Lesley at work along the Light Rail

The paintings were actually painted earlier this year, before the extreme heat set in. My studio is near the light rail line that runs from south Charlotte to Uptown. There is a wide walking and biking trail alongside the rail line, which provides a great place to stand, with a fine view of Uptown. Just above is a shot of me at work there, and below is the finished painting. I love this scene, because it shows both the

Memories of Paris

"Distant Pantheon"
30 x 24, Oil on Canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2018

It's been a while since I posted about the new work on my easel. Time to remedy that! Most recently, I have been working on a new series of paintings based on my time in Paris last fall. I am working from sketches I did on location, as well as from notes I took on site. I have also used reference photos I shot at the time. Granted, a photo doesn't give me the same information that "being there" does, but it helps fill in the gaps when I get home.

"Pont Neuf, Toward Place Dauphine"
18 x 18, Oil on Canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2018

This trip, I stayed in a new location: the Ile St. Louis. I had never stayed there before, and found it to be wonderfully convenient to all of Paris. Best of all, several of my favorite

California Townscapes

"Sonoma Plaza"
9 x 12, Oil on Canvas
(c) Lesley Powell 2016

During my recent time in California, I had many opportunities to paint the beautiful rolling hills and vineyards of wine country. But I was also drawn to urban scenes, particularly some street scenes that I saw every day coming to and from my friends' house. I was fortunate to be staying quite close to the historic central plaza in the town of Sonoma. I loved the old Sebastiani Theater building, especially in the late afternoon when it seemed to

Richard Diebenkorn

"Cityscape I"
60 1/4 x 50 1/2, Oil on Canvas
Richard Diebenkorn, 1963

Travel often leads to new discoveries, was well as to the rekindling of old interests. My recent trip to California was no exception. As a painter, I often seek out areas where the "greats" have painted. I have tracked down the spots that Cezanne painted around Aix-en-Provence, and found it fascinating to see the landscapes that he immortalized. This time, I didn't go to California in quest of an artist's habitat. But while I was there I came across a new book featuring the landscapes and still lifes of Richard Diebenkorn. There I was, right within shouting distance of the places Diebenkorn had lived and painted. The little book seemed like a prod to delve into a deeper study of his work. 

"Interior with Book"
70 x 64, Oil on Canvas
Richard Diebenkorn, 1959

I have always been attracted to Diebenkorn's paintings. He moved through several distinct phases in his painting career, from Abstract Expressionism, to more representational and figurative work, and back to abstraction. Over the past few weeks, I have been studying his more representational landscapes, such as those pictured in this post. I love them for their clarity of color, for their geometry, for their sense of depth, and perhaps above all for their marvelous simplification. How can he leave out so much, and yet tell so much, at the same time??

"Bridge"
36 x 39 1/4, Oil on Canvas
Richard Diebenkorn, 1961

I have read that Diebenkorn had a pivotal experience one day when flying in an airplane between Albuquerque and San Francisco. From that vantage point, he saw the fields below as organized patterns of horizontal and vertical grids. We can see how that point of view affected his landscape painting forever after. Diebenkorn used geometry and color relationships to create a sense of vast scale, spacial depth, and wide open spaces in his landscapes. Looking at them, I almost feel like I am standing on a precipice looking out.

"View from the Porch"
70 x 66, Oil on Canvas
Richard Diebenkorn, 1959

Diebenkorn lived and painted for the vast majority of his life in California, eschewing the popular New York "scene". In fact, many say that his paintings are unique and notable precisely because they portray the luminous light and color of Northern California. In an interview shortly before his death, Dieibenkorn acknowledged this point, but noted that it was not something that he consciously sought. He said, "I arrive at the light only after painting it, not by aiming for it." Spoken like a true artist and seeker. 

"Ocean from a Window"
70 x 64, Oil on Canvas
Richard Diebenkorn, 1959

Stay tuned for more on Diebenkorn. I hope to write separately about his wonderful still life paintings...

Anatomy of a Painting: Bungalow Porch

I have had a number of requests to write about my painting process--the steps I use to make a painting. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I decided to give it a go with some "progress photos", showing how one particular painting came together.

This one began on a fine, late spring morning. I wanted to be outdoors painting, but I couldn't figure out where to go. Every place that came to mind was quickly ruled out for one reason or another. No room to stand without getting hit by a car; sunlight coming from wrong direction; too far away; you name it. Finally I decided to quit making excuses. I went to the same little bungalow I had painted the afternoon before, figuring I could paint it in morning light, which would look completely different. I was drawn to the shadows under the eaves and the geometry of the architecture.

No sooner had I set up my easel than a pickup truck with a trailer parked right in front of my subject. Sigh. I probably should have moved to a different motif, but by that time I was

Ken Auster

"Swarming"
16 x 20, (c) Ken Auster

Readers who are fellow painters may know that we lost "one of our own" earlier this year--Ken Auster. I was lucky enough to take a workshop with Ken some time ago, and I loved his approach. Sometimes (often?) irreverent, Ken bragged that he never cleaned his brushes.

Warm December Days!

My set up: Covenant Presbyterian

It's a dream come true for this painter: 70+ degree days in December! I love to paint architecture in the landscape, but there are some structures that I simply cannot see when the leaves are on the trees. I wait for winter when the leaves are gone, but by then it is often too cold to paint outdoors. In a wonderful twist (thanks to El Nino), this month has blessed us with both comfortable temperatures and leafless trees--at the same time!

My set up: Myers Park Presbyterian

The recent weather has been perfect for painting a couple of neighborhood churches. Their steeples are often obscured when the big oak trees that surround them are leafed out. Just look at the top photo--I would never have been able to see the chapel and the steeple at the same time had the leaves been on those trees. Want to see the results?

Two Tents

Greek Festival I
12 x 12, Oil on Board
(c) Lesley Powell 2015

It's that time of the year again in Charlotte--the annual YIASOU! Greek Festival starts tomorrow (September 10, 2015). I drive by the site every day, and I have become completely entranced by the bright blue and white striped tents erected for the Festival. I've always loved the architecture of the Greek Orthodox church, and now I am obsessed with these boldly striped tents. I keep returning to the site to paint the tents from different angles. (I am reminded of the joke about the woman who complained to her psychiatrist that she could not stop dreaming about teepees and wigwams. His diagnosis: "Too tense". HA!).

"Greek Festival II"
Oil on Paper
(c) Lesley Powell 2015

The top painting was my first one. Love the brightness and freshness, but

Seen from Above

Betrand de Miollis, on a rooftop in Paris

During the hot summer months, I have been looking out my studio window at the activity nearby. I have wanted to paint the view from my window--partly because it is an interesting view, and partly (I must admit) because I want to work in the comfort of air-conditioning. But I have been afraid to tackle it. I have been unsure that I could make the third floor point of view, looking down, successful.

"The Census at Bethlehem"
Pieter Bruegel the Elder, 1566

Well. A little trot through art history has almost convinced me to set my fears aside and give it a go. I read that as long ago as the 1500's, artists would climb church steeples in order to get an ariel view of their villages! Just above is a 16th century painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder, very convincing from an elevated point of view. And If Bertrand de Mollis can take the vantage point shown in the top photo,

Up Close and Personal

Painting by Ken Auster
9 x 12, oil on panel

It is said that a good painting should reward the viewer in many different ways. One way a painting does that is to give you a totally different experience when viewed from a distance than it does when viewed up close. I own a painting by Ken Auster (a California Impressionist painter) that is a great example of this phenomenon. The top photo shows Ken's painting from a reasonable distance. It is clearly recognizable as a scene of the light rail line leading to Uptown Charlotte. Quite realistic and representational. The next few photos show the painting from a close-up vantage point. What a change--it is

Curious Yellow, Part II

"Phat Burrito"
9 x 12, oil on linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2015
(Available)

I have been outdoors painting on location a couple of times recently--whenever I could catch a spring day in between the winter ones! Curiously, I was drawn both times to things that were a very bright yellow. You may know that the color of an object, as perceived by the human eye, depends on the wavelengths of the light it reflects. When light hits an object, the object absorbs some of the rays, and reflects the others. Yellow things absorb less light, and reflect more light, than things of other colors. The fact that yellow objects reflect so much light explains why they are very bright. In painting terms,

Painting the Town: SouthEnd

"SouthEnd Scene"
12 x 9, oil on linen
(c) Lesley Powell 2014

Where I live, there is a very limited window of time in which the outdoor climate is actually a PLUS for outdoor painting, rather than something to be struggled with. In fact, I once heard somebody say that the reason there are fewer plein air painters in the Southeast than other regions is that

Anatomy of a Painting: SouthEnd

One of my most popular posts of all time has been the one entitled  "Anatomy of a Painting", showing the step-by-step process of creating a painting in an olive grove of Provence. Now I am going to reprise the concept, and show the anatomy of a painting in a completely different landscape (some might not even call it a "landscape")

Urban Revitalization

"Yonkers"
Edward Hopper

I have always loved the urban landscape. Though I have never lived in a huge metropolis, I have always lived within two miles of downtown--be the town small or large. Lately I have been painting the urban scene near my studio, in the SouthEnd of Charlotte. As I have done so, I have reflected on

Painting the Town

"Behind Valley Street"

8 x 6

I have just returned from a week in Virginia. The weather was fantastic, and I took full advantage of the clear skies and crisp air to do some plein air painting. As usual, I had some "wipe outs", as well as some keepers.

Here's a photo of my setup one day:

I don't want to post images of everything I painted, because I am saving some pieces to be  "unveiled" at my show next month. But in case you are interested in a little preview, the painting above, entitled "Behind Valley Street", is one of my favorites from the week's work.